It had seemed as if the world had stopped.

The monitor was the slightest bit hazy. Ash was falling uniformly from the sky, and although normally there would be autumn dancers tumbling from trees, there were none this year.

It seemed as if the only constants had never existed.

There was this tension in the air, this...rigid energy that could be felt even through a monitor screen. It made a person watching the monitor cringe slightly, his lips turned down in distaste.

She was a lost case. Considered the hope of the region, Hilda was Unova's best hope- or should he dare elaborate, only hope. It made him tense, knowing that she was the one who was the apparent "true" hero of Unova, the one that best suited the citizens; of course, the citizens hoped for a change. For someone to save them. Hilda was the best candidate for a hero. Hilda knew firsthand how cruel the dictatorship was. Of course. Her witnessing her town burn down in flames and her best friend forever disabled had changed her. They knew she wasn't innocent.

But this made him laugh. It was the most ironic, he surmised, trying to bite back a mocking laugh. Oh, he knew how much this role didn't suit her. He should. He was the one who knew her the best.

She was the one who had the least hope. She was the one who resigned to despair, the one who let his departure completely change her. Really, he knew that she wasn't angry at Team Plasma, who had commanded him to set flame to his town. He knew she was angry at him for leaving her, to the point where she was consumed with only one desire.

To kill him, for making her lose the one thing she had depended on.

The one that lost all faith was the hero of ideals.

It shocked the people standing around Hilbert in the control room, to hear a sudden snort come from him. He didn't bother noting their reactions; after all, he was the one in charge. He was the one who controlled everything, the one who had equal standing even amongst Ghetsis and King N. These grunts were all replaceable, were renewable; one-time-use napkins to be thrown out with the daily trash. It's not as if Team Plasma had a lack of support from followers; that was their hold over the region in the first place.

No, he reminded himself, that wasn't the case anymore. This...girl from his past had shown up and taken the region by storm, making everyone reevaluate Team Plasma and their motives. If she hadn't appeared, everyone would still be living in a false peace. Hilda was the one who single-handedly started this war, staring into his eyes with her cold ones. He was sure he could detect a shimmer of insanity inside her eyes. He knew why she did so. He had always known his childhood friend the best, even if he had held a disdain for her.

That was incorrect -he grimaced- she was not his childhood friend. He had held a disdain for her, albeit less than what he had held for other people at the time. She could barely even hold the title of "acquaintance" to him, even though he had once considered her to be the only thing keeping him alive. Even though that was the past, some of it was still true. She was the only reason he was alive now. This was his duty. However, while before she was so dear to him, he had once thought of destroying anything for her, now it was different.

Much different.

He was alive to kill her.

He didn't want to see how much people she had rallied behind her, the support of the people all gathered from confident stance and ordinary words. He supposed she was put up to this. She had always hated being looked up upon. Yes, he supposed, she had always preferred to be looked down upon. That way, she could justify her hatred of people. Yet, how tightly she was placed in the people's hearts- putting her on the top of a pedestal with no way down. She was always afraid of heights though, and he surmised that would be her downfall. He smirked.

He still had to dispose of her, though. She was only in his way.

Belatedly, he found himself starting to wonder how she had managed to get herself to this point.

She had to sacrifice something to become this inhumane, to have bloodthirst in her eyes and a savage lust for the red tainting his body. He had to sacrifice something to become so cruel. She had to as well.

He knew what it was he had lost.

He had lost all of his emotions.

And looking at the girl on the screen, with her unsure stance and staring into nowhere, he could guess she had sacrificed her humanity as well.

He had lost what made him human, as did she.

Hilda was always the most fragile of them four. She was the most useless. She couldn't do anything right, yet couldn't do anything wrong either, so she was always stuck as the one who was the least important. Even Bianca had her moments where she was abnormally perceptive. Hilda just cried all the time, for no reason at all.

It was then that a voice he was familiar with chimed in his head. He hated the voices. They always haunted him. No one ever saved him from the voices. No one was ever his hero. He had tried so hard to be the shining prince on the white stallion that no one had ever thought to give him armor. That was the reason he was here. He wouldn't need anyone to save him here.

The voice repeated itself, making its presence not be ignored.

[Look at you, you failure. You joined Team Plasma for her, but instead gave into your selfish desires instead. You should just die and let her kill you.]

His chest stung. He brought his hands up to his face, trying to stop the voice. The voice was now spouting random words, but the previous words had hurt too much. He wanted it to stop. It was as monotonous as static, but it still had an effect on him. He was going to lose it if he didn't do anything.

He smashed his head into the monitor.

He could hear a collective gasp, and was mortified to find that he was relieved he could hear the voices of grunts again. He glared at the broken screen, now unable to serve its purpose well, as if the damage was its own fault. He could hear a grunt timidly ask if he was alright, and another one shoved some paper towels into his hand.

His hand.

It was covered with blood.

He hated getting things dirty. He disdainfully pulled out his own handkerchief, and a bottle of rubbing alcohol he kept on hand at all times. He was a bit of a clean freak, despite popular belief. He always made sure everything was clean and neat.

The screen started flickering again, to a darker light, and he almost strained his eyes to see what was happening. From the monitor, a black swirl was rising up into the air, indiscernible. He leaned a bit closer, keeping his eyes stoic as he stared at the situation. His blood ran cold.

How dare she.

Hilbert had never wanted to kill her more than now.

The girl was holding a black orb, a strange black mist rising from the oddly shaped object. He himself recognized the shape; however, there were questioning murmurs amongst the grunts as to what the object was.

Some guessed it was a weapon. Some guessed it was a symbol for the Rebellion.

They were right.

Holding the Black Orb, she stared straight into the monitor, as if she knew that they were watching her. No doubt, she didn't; he knew from when they were younger that she had the tendency to zone out whenever anything important happened. Her faults were numerous, and life-hindering. There was no reason why she was the one who was destined to summon it out.

Ignoring the fact that she had defeated the Champion countless times, that she had completely overtaken Cheren and Bianca in her journey, Hilbert still knew she was weak. She was weak, but pretended to be strong. Everyone else thought otherwise.

This would not do.

This could not do.

He needed to stop all of this; there was no reason, no logic, for her to be the one to summon Zekrom. However, he'd known from the start that she'd be the one to start the destruction again. They'd tear down the region in their desire to kill one another, to make sure that the other'd die by their hands, but he knew that they both wished for that to be the end. To die at the height of their exhilaration, to have a perfect bittersweet ending. It isn't his word choice, but she's always been one to describe things like that, despite knowing that it would likely never happen. In fact, she was the one who brought him down to earth many times, saying how it was illogical for him to have aspirations like that, and that it'd only set him up for disappointment.

He doesn't want to admit that he's actually kind of a dreamer while she's a cynic. It would be great if they both died at the same time, though. There'd be no time to regret things, and they'd get a somewhat happy ending.

Either way, whether or not he'll get the ending he desires, he needs to kill her to stop the madness.

Turning around at the grunts, his eyes flared and he stood regally in the room. Lifting his finger to point at one grunt, he addressed them all.

"Kill her. Or else you shall bear her punishment."

Oh, they were going to stop the rebellion. No choice was given to the grunts, as they quickly fled the room, their Pokemon poised at the ready; he must have looked positively murderous. He had always had a knack at intimidating others, as many had pointed out to him. He could remember Hilda in their younger days, hugging him for her safety, and him intimidating anyone who would dare even look at her.

Yes, those grunts were going to kill her unless they wanted to die themselves. They were going to stop the rebellion.

The method would be by killing his childhood love.

His head started hurting again. He winced and grabbed at his hair, trying to take his mind off of the dull throb of his head. It all hurt too much. Next to him, he could hear footsteps. N had walked up to him, regarding him with a cold look and polite tone. Hilbert held a disdain for N, who wasn't truly fit to be a king, and knew that N was only being kind to him out of pretense.

"Are you okay?"

Hilbert stared at him, narrowing his eyes.

N should not have been the king.

[Who should then?]

Hilbert ignored the voice in his head, and instead grit his teeth to drown it out.

After all, weren't the most insane people the ones that listened to the voices in their heads?

[A/N]

Edit (12-09-2014 in the date format MDY): Now undergoing major revision. Story shall be paused while it is being rewritten. I am cringing from the writing I had before, and now resolve to rewrite everything so that it fulfills my current standards. I surmise it won't be very well-written still though 0u0.